The Bargain
by AlElizabeth
Summary: Wee!Chester AU. In an attempt to win his money back in a card game, John bargains his youngest son and loses. Not feeling all that bad about handing his child off to a stranger, John keeps his unsavoury deed a secret from Dean for as long as he can. WARNING: This story features minor physical and emotional/psychological abuse of children.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

The cards were starting to blur in front of John's eyes. As though to fortify himself, the hunter reached out for his bottle of beer, his fingers knocking against it dumbly before he grabbed it. Bringing the bottle of lukewarm alcohol to his mouth, John drained it. Slamming the bottle down on the table, the hunter wiped a sleeve across his mouth.

"Look asshole," the man sitting across from him, "Why don't you quit while you're ahead?"

"What did you just call me?" the hunter growled, narrowing his eyes.

The man shook his head, "Forget it, I'm done. You don't know how stop when you've already lost."

John watched as the man set his cards down on the table.

"No wait! I have to get my money back! Let me do that at least," John demanded, his words slurring.

"Listen pal," the man leaned forward, hands on the table, "I already have your money. What else have you got that I could want? Why don't you just give it up?"

The man turned to leave but John grabbed his arm, right above the elbow.

"My kid!" he blurted, "I have a son!"

The man turned to look at John, ""A son?"

John, swayed for a moment on his seat, looked as though he may topple over, "I don't have anything else. I need that money back."

The man shook John's hand from his arm but didn't move to leave. He appeared to be thinking over John's proposition.

"How do you know I'm not some pervert?" the man asked John.

John shrugged, "Are we going to play or not?"

"All right," the man grinned and sat back down, "My girlfriend's been nagging me about having a kid for ages."

John smiled and picked his cards back up.

_W_

John parked the Impala in the space designated for the motel room he was renting. He turned off the engine and remained where he sat for a long moment. He felt as though a great weight were lifting from his chest as he thought about what he was about to do.

The man- his name was Kurt it turned out- idled his white 1980 Trans Am behind the hunter in the parking lot, waiting patiently.

John, reeking of alcohol, flung open the door to the Impala and stepped out. He motioned to Kurt that he'd be a minute and staggered up to the motel room. The lights were out; the boys were asleep.

Fishing the room key from his pocket, John unlocked the door and stepped inside without turning on the light. He could just make out the figures of his two sons together in one of the beds. Leaving the door ajar, the hunter stepped quietly to the bed and peered down at his four-year old son. Sammy slumbered with a thumb in his mouth, one of his older brother's arms draped over his shoulder.

Crouching down, John lifted Dean's arm and tucked it into the blankets. The eight-year old turned over but did not wake. Carefully, as quietly as he could in his inebriated state, John lifted his younger son from the bed.

"Daddy," Sammy murmured and nestled his cheek against John's shoulder.

Quickly, John turned and walked out of the motel room. He passed the Impala and stopped at the old, rusted Trans Am. Kurt rolled down the window of the car and peered at John and the child for a moment.

"Hand him over," he told John.

The father hesitated. But only for a second. He could feel his son's heartbeat against his chest.

"You're not getting cold feet are you?" Kurt sniggered, reminded John, "I wasn't the one to bargain his kid."

Saying nothing, John held the boy out. Sam, awakened by the sudden movement, peered sleepily at his father.

The child was small for his age. At four, he looked more like a two- or three-year old. Kurt grabbed the boy beneath his armpits and pulled him in through the open window. "Daddy?" Sam, sitting on the car's red leather bucket seat blinked at his father.

John turned his face away and said nothing.

"Daddy!" Sam cried, his voice suddenly muffled when Kurt rolled up the window.

The Trans Am's engine roared to life and began backing up, despite the noise, John could hear his son crying and calling out to him. He hardened his heart against the sound.

_SPN_

Dean's eyes snapped open. Something was wrong. Reaching out, he touched the space on the bed where his brother had lain when they had gone to sleep. Instead of feeling the solid, warm body of his brother, the eight-year old only felt sheets.

"Sammy?" Dean called and sat up, thinking his brother was in the bathroom. The door however, was ajar and the room dark.

"Where are you?" Dean asked and scanned the room.

Standing, Dean saw the glow from a pair of headlights outside the room and moved to the window. Pushing aside the heavy brown curtains, Dean paused, watching a white, rusty Trans Am drive past the room and out of the parking lot onto the highway.

"Sammy?" Dean turned and called again, "Where are you?"

The room was tiny, and did not have many places to hide, even for a small-for-his-age four-year old. Dean's heart began to pound in his chest.

"This isn't funny," Dean hissed and peered inside the cabinet upon which the bunny-eared television sat.

The boy jumped when the door to the motel room opened and his father lurched inside, alcohol fumes wafting off him in waves.

"What are you doing? You're supposed to be in bed," John slurred.

Dean peered up at his father, his heart knocking against his ribs, "I… I can't find Sammy."

"You what?" John asked and Dean repeated himself.

John hurried to his son, "Dean! Where's your brother?"

"I don't know!" Dean cried, "He was just here! Just here!"

John reached down and grabbed the boy's narrow shoulders, "Where is he?"

Dean craned his neck to take in the motel room.

"I don't… I don't…" Dean stammered. He didn't know what was happening. He had gone to bed with Sammy snuggled against him but moments ago he'd woken up alone in bed.

"Jesus, Dean! I get back and your brother's missing! Tell me what happened!" John snapped at his eldest son.

Dean started to cry. He didn't know what to do. His brother was gone and his Dad was yelling at him.

"I told you to look after him!" John chastised, "Didn't I tell you to look after your brother?"

Dean nodded, tears streaming down his face. He reached out to John, something he hadn't done in a long time, and his father picked him up.

"I should have been here," John said out loud, "This wouldn't have happened."

Dean pressed his face into the crook of his father's neck, weeping.

"We'll find him," John murmured in Dean's ear, having no intention whatsoever of looking for his youngest son, "We'll find Sam."

**Author's Note:**

**Special thanks to mandancie for edited this story for me.**

**Please leave a review.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

By the time Kurt pulled into the driveway of the apartment building he lived in with his girlfriend, Amy, the boy had cried himself into exhaustion. He slumped in the passenger's seat, head titled forward, a string of snot oozing out of his nose.

Once parked, Kurt pushed the kid's forehead back so that he was sitting straight and, rummaging through the glove compartment, found a napkin to wipe his face. With the boy cleaned up, Kurt unbuckled him and picked him up, the child's cheek resting against his shoulder.

Locking the Trans Am, Kurt crossed the parking lot and opened the door to the apartment building. Fluorescent lights filled with dead flies lit the stairwell, steps made of unpainted concrete, the railing on the left side unstable and wobbly. Climbing up three flights, Kurt opened the outer door to the landing, its paint bubbling and covered in graffiti. The hallway had once been painted white but now the walls were yellowed and scuffed, the beige carpet worn down the middle by hundreds of footfalls. At the end of the hall, Kurt stopped and grabbed his keys from the pocket of his jeans, while heavy metal music pounded from the apartment directly across from his. Kurt unlocked the door to his apartment and stepped inside.

"Amy!" he called, and repositioned the boy in his arms. The child whimpered and opened his eyes blearily.

"What you want?" his girlfriend's voice hollered from their bedroom.

"Get out here!" he snapped and moved into the tiny galley kitchen directly across from the front door. With one hand he grabbed a doughnut from the box that had been sitting on the counter for a number of days and took a bite.

"What's wrong with y-" Amy, dressed in nothing but a blue silk nightgown Kurt had bought her long ago, stopped in her tracks.

"You can stop bitching at me about a kid now," Kurt jostled the boy slightly, holding him out to Amy.

"Oh my God!" his girlfriend shrieked and grabbed the child, causing the boy to whimper again, "Where did you get him?"

"I didn't do anything illegal, if that's what you're thinking," Kurt told Amy, as she cradled the boy like a baby, cooing to him, "His old man lost him in a poker game. So let's just say I adopted him."

Amy glanced at Kurt; one eyebrow raised but didn't question him further.

"He's so cute," she said and brushed the boy's bangs away from his face, "What's his name?"

Kurt belched and shrugged, "Hell if I know."

"You got a name, baby?" Amy asked the child. He just stared at her with wide, frightened eyes.

Kurt sat down at the small table positioned at the far end of the kitchen.

"I'm going to call you Shawn," Amy murmured to the child.

"Wasn't that your father's name?" Kurt asked, picking doughnut crumbs from his shirt.

"So? Got a problem with that?" Amy bristled. Kurt shrugged, "Sure, if you want to name the kid after that old bastard, be my guest."

Kurt stood up and stretched, "I'm heading to bed. You coming?"

Amy didn't respond, she was cooing to the child again.

"Whatever," Kurt muttered, crossed the living room directly from the kitchen and headed down a short hallway and into the first bedroom on the right. There was a second bedroom as well but it was empty at the moment, its door closed. At the very end of the hallway was a small, grimy bathroom.

Shutting the bedroom door, Kurt peeled off his clothes and climbed into the bed. Closing his eyes, he drifted quickly into a sound slumber.

_W_

Shuffling into the living room in nothing but his boxer shorts, Kurt scratched himself as he peered at his girlfriend lying on her side on their old leather couch, the little boy pressed against her chest, his thumb tucked into his mouth. Giving a half smile, Kurt passed the entryway on his way to the kitchen.

The coffee pot sat on the counter, a quarter full. Kurt picked it up, sniffed the liquid before pouring it into a chipped mug and drinking it cold. Pulling open the fridge, he started to rummage around for something to eat for breakfast when he heard whimpering.

Closing the fridge door, Kurt went back to the box of doughnuts and peeled one from the cardboard, licking the chocolate icing from his fingers. The whimpering was growing more insistent and Kurt stuck his head out of the doorway. The kid was wide-awake; thumb still crammed into his mouth, crying without tears.

Kurt went back into the kitchen, picked up his mug and drank some more coffee.

As he was finishing his doughnut, Kurt heard Amy wake up and speak to the child.

"You hungry, baby? You want something to eat?"

There was a pause and then Amy spoke again.

"What's that?"

Another pause, this one not as long, before a quiet voice mumbled, almost too softly for Kurt to hear, "…Want Dee…"

There was the padding of bare feet on the parquet floor of the living room and then Amy was in the kitchen.

"You going to work?" Amy asked him as she opened the fridge, bending over to push aside Styrofoam containers of old fast food and bottles of beer.

"Yeah, you?" Kurt asked, finishing the coffee in his mug and setting it on the counter.

Grabbing a carton of milk, Amy straightened and turned, taking a glass from the cupboard.

"I'm going to call in sick for a few days," she pressed open the spout on the milk carton to open it, "Can't leave Shawn alone right now."

Amy began pouring the milk; large, gelatinous chunks plopped down into the cup. Amy paused, hand still holding the carton above the glass.

"What the hell, Kurt? You can't get milk?" She snapped, tossing the carton and glass into the sink.

"It's your job to grocery shop, Amy. Not mine. I spend all day at work and I want to relax when I get home," Kurt told her.

"I work too!" Amy snapped.

Kurt snorted, "Sure, painting nails is such hard work."

"Fuck you," Amy snarled.

Kurt moved forward, grabbing his girlfriend by the arms and pressing her back against the counter.

"Don't you fucking talk back to me," he hissed at the woman.

"Let me go!" Amy cried and Kurt did so.

She watched, rubbing her arms where Kurt had grabbed her, as he shoved his feet into his shoes and left the apartment, slamming the door.

Amy hurried into the living room and picked up the boy, cuddling him to her chest even as his body went rigid with resistance.

"Let's get you something to eat," Amy murmured to the boy and carried him into the kitchen with her.

_SPN_

"Dean," John's voice whispered in the boy's ear, his breath hot on the boy's cheek, "Wake up."

For a split second Dean didn't remember the events of the night before and he quickly turned to where his brother should be sleeping beside him. Only to see empty sheets and the memories returned.

"Sammy," Dean choked and looked to his father.

"Pick up your stuff," John told him.

"Are we going to look for Sammy?" Dean climbed out of bed and began collecting his clothes strewn all over the floor.

"Yes," John said shortly, "Not that we should. If you'd done as I told you, Dean, your brother would still be here."

Dean stopped, holding a pair of socks, his heart starting to hammer in his chest again.

"C'mon," John said impatiently, standing at the door.

Dean crammed his socks into his bag and followed his father out to the Impala.

The eight-year old clambered onto the passenger's side of the long bench seat and clicked his seatbelt into place while his father sat behind the steering wheel. Normally Dean would fiddle with the radio as soon as the car was on, trying to find a rock station, but he didn't touch the dials this morning. Sitting straight, he stared through the windshield as though he would see his little brother walking past the car.

I'm sorry, Sammy, Dean thought as John pulled out of their parking space and crossed the parking lot, I'm sorry I wasn't a better brother; I'll find you.

**Author's Note:**

**Special thanks to mandancie for editing this chapter.**

**Thank you to Isdugat, need2no, scootersmom, BlueMoon007, and JuliHero for reviewing. **

**Please leave a review if you are enjoyed this story. **


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

Amy smiled at Shawn as she carefully painted her nails. They were sitting on the couch, the little boy leaning his body against hers, thumb in his mouth, eyes wide and watchful.

Amy had wanted a baby for as long as she could remember. As an only child, she'd make-believe she had tons of brothers and sisters to play with. When she started dating Kurt, right out of high school, she imagined living in one of the big, beautiful houses on Mulberry Avenue with at least three babies to care for and love. She always wanted a little girl, a daughter, but she was not going to complain about Shawn.

Putting the lid back onto her polish, Amy reached out her undecorated hand and carded her hand through the boy's hair. Only the child's eyes moved as he glanced at her before quickly looking away again.

Blowing on her nails to dry them faster, Amy frowned. Her boss at the salon hadn't been happy to hear she was taking some days off but she couldn't leave Shawn by himself yet.

Looking up at the sound of the apartment door opening, Amy watched Kurt step inside and slip his shoes off, a plastic bag dangling from one hand. Approaching her, he had a chagrinned expression on his face.

"Sorry about this morning, Babe," he murmured, "It won't happen again."

Presenting her with the bag, Amy looked inside and saw Kurt had bought a carton of milk, eggs, and a loaf of bread.

"Thanks," Amy half-stood from the couch and kissed Kurt.

"How was the kid today?" Kurt reached out and touched Shawn's head. The boy remained as still as a statue, only his eyes rolling upwards to stare at Kurt.

"An angel," Amy cooed, "Weren't you Shawny?"

The child didn't answer, probably because his thumb was lodged firmly in his mouth.

"I got something for him too," Kurt said and Amy looked at her boyfriend, curious.

Walking back to the front door, he opened it and two of his buddies from the bar, panting and swearing, dragged a mattress inside. The mattress was covered in a large bag with dust sticking to it. Through the plastic, Amy could see a large yellow stain on the mattress and several smaller brown ones that looked like cigarette burns.

"I was thinking the kid can't sleep on the couch forever," Kurt told her, "And he sure as hell isn't sharing our bed. We'll put him in the spare room."

Amy stood up suddenly, causing the little boy to nearly topple over but he quickly recovered, drawing his knees up to his chin. Throwing her arms around Kurt's shoulders, Amy kissed him hard on the lips.

Turning, Amy picked Shawn up and carried him down the hallway, "Let's see your room, baby."

The extra bedroom had a parquet floor, one window and a narrow closet that was missing its sliding doors, the tracks rusted and coated in years of dust. Kurt's buddies were pulling the plastic from the mattress, grumbling about having to do all the work.

"Would you assholes shut up," Kurt barked, "I told you I'd buy you a two-four for your trouble."

"Each?" one man asked and Kurt sneered, "Do I look like I'm made of money? One case and you can split it."

The other man grumbled, muttering something that sounded like 'cheapskate' but Kurt ignored him.

Once the plastic was off the mattress, the men let it fall onto the floor with a muted _whump, _clouds of dust rising up into the air.

Amy dropped down onto the edge of the mattress and set the boy down beside her.

"This is your new bed," she murmured to the child, stroking his hair.

"Kurt, we'll have to get some sheets," she told her boyfriend.

"What about those ones from your Mom we've never used?" he asked and after a moment's consideration, Amy nodded, "They might work."

Kurt ushered his buddies out of the apartment and went to get the sheets.

"This is going to be your room," Amy spoke to the boy, "How do you like that? A room of your very own."

The child started to cry again, pulling his thumb from his mouth.

"… Want Dee…" he whimpered, "… Want Dee…"

Amy reached out to the boy but he scooted away from her hands. More insistent, she grabbed him and drew him forwards.

"No! No!" the boy cried, pushing at Amy to try and get out of her embrace, "Want Dee! Want Dee!"

Amy tried to calm the child, cooing and murmuring softly but her words only seemed to make things worse. He kicked at her belly with his bare feet, punched her chest with his small fists.

Amy held her face away from the boy and saw Kurt step into the doorway. Her boyfriend tossed the sheets- pink with a rosebud pattern- onto the floor, and cross the small room. He pulled the boy from her arms, causing the child to scream in fear.

"Don't hurt him!" Amy told her boyfriend but Kurt ignored her and shook the child.

Face inches from the boy's, Kurt snarled, "Don't you fucking touch her like that again."

The boy stared wide-eyed at Kurt, frightened into silence.

"Kurt!" Amy cried and stood up.

"Here," Kurt shoved the boy into Amy's arms and stalked out of the room.

Once her boyfriend was gone, the boy began crying again, clutching at Amy's long, black hair, his face pressed against her chest. The woman rocked the boy, murmuring quietly to him until he cried himself to sleep.

_SPN_

They weren't going to find him, Dean realized. Sam was gone.

The eight-year old started to cry. He'd never felt so helpless before.

John cut eyes at his son, "What are you crying for?"

"I miss Sammy," Dean hiccupped.

"Enough of that," John chastised, "Crying isn't going to bring him back."

Dean wiped his eyes on his sleeve, "Yes, sir."

"We're going to keep looking," John told his son, "Until we find him."

Dean nodded, telling himself not to cry again. He needed to be strong for his brother; he needed to do better than he had last night.

_SPN_

Kurt startled awake. Staring at the darkened ceiling he wondered for a moment what had drawn him from his slumber. The apartment, right on a busy street, was never truly quiet- the sounds of cars and people nearly constant- but he was used to those sounds. No, what had woken him was a different sound.

Turning his head, he peered at Amy, lying beside him, fast asleep.

Suddenly, a noise in the dark- a metallic jingling sound. Kurt sat up in bed and squinted at the closed bedroom door.

"What the hell…" he muttered and stood. Amy, woken by the movement, spoke, "What's going on?"

Kurt didn't answer. He opened the bedroom door and peered down the short hallway towards the bathroom and Shawn's bedroom. Both doors stood ajar, both rooms dark.

Turning to peer down the other side of the hallway, Kurt swore out loud when he caught sight of a sliver of light coming from the front door to the apartment.

Rushing forward, he quickly caught up with the boy as Shawn stepped over the threshold. The boy cried with surprise when he was grabbed roughly from behind, kicking his legs. Kurt pushed the door shut with his foot and carried the child away from the door.

Amy stared at him from the hallway, her expression frightened and confused.

"Take him," Kurt passed Shawn to his girlfriend and went into the kitchen, taking one of the chairs from the dining room set.

"What are you going to do?" Amy asked, struggling to hold onto the child.

"Make sure he doesn't leave his room again tonight," Kurt told her.

Amy carried the squirming boy into his room and set him down on the mattress.

"Get out of there," Kurt ordered and Amy exited the room, watching as her boyfriend closed the bedroom door on the crying child and set the chair directly in front, sitting down on it.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"I'm going to make sure he stays in his room," Kurt told her.

"By sitting out here all night?" she asked.

Kurt glared at her, "You got a better idea?"

Amy shook her head, trying to ignore the sounds coming from the bedroom.

"I'll figure out something better in the morning," Kurt told her, leaning back and crossing his arms over his chest.

"You go to bed," he told her. Amy hesitated for a moment but then did as he told her, leaving the bedroom door open.

_W_

Amy padded down the hall, a bowl of Cheerios and milk in her hands. Quietly, passing the empty dining room chair, she pushed the door to Shawn's room open and looked inside. The boy lay on his belly on the mattress, eyes closed, illuminated by a square of sunlight shining in through the window.

Kurt had left the apartment early, not even waking Amy. She guessed he was at work, which was fine with her; he'd been a bit rough with the boy the day before and she wanted to make sure he was all right.

"Hey baby," Amy whispered loudly as she sat down on the mattress beside the sleeping child, "Wake up, Shawny."

The boy's hazel eyes opened halfway, they were unfocused for a moment and Amy watched as they moved, taking in his surroundings. The boy whimpered when his gaze focused on her.

"I brought you some breakfast," Amy told him, smiling.

Before she could say anything else, she heard the apartment door open.

"Where are you?" Kurt's voice asked from the entryway.

"In here!" Amy called.

Shawn whimpered again and scooted on his bum into the corner.

"I thought you were at work," Amy told Kurt when he appeared in the doorway.

"I told them I had an appointment this morning," he told her, holding up a plastic bag, "I had to get some things for the kid's room first."

Amy smiled, set the bowl of cereal on the floor and stood.

"What did you get?" she asked and Kurt held the bag out for her to look inside.

Amy reached into the bag and pulled out a package from the hardware store. It contained a chain door lock and several screws.

Amy's smile faltered, "What's this?"

"I'm going to make sure we don't have a repeat of last night," Kurt told her.

"Do we really need this?" Amy asked.

"If you don't want the kid wandering all over the building," Kurt told her.

Amy handed the package back, her expression uncertain.

"You'll thank me later," Kurt informed her.

Turning her attention back to the boy, who was sitting on the mattress, spooning Cheerios into his mouth, Amy nodded.

"Okay," she muttered, "Whatever you think is right."

_SPN_

Dean dropped wearily onto the motel room bed, sad and frustrated. They hadn't had any leads on his brother's whereabouts and John had decided that in the morning they would leave the city.

"But what if he's here!" Dean had argued, panicking.

"We've searched all day," John retorted, "With absolutely no sign of your brother. Besides, any predator smart enough wouldn't stick around for too long. They've probably left by now."

Dean's stomach had flip-flopped at the word 'predator'. He hadn't thought about it before but it was most certainly a predator who had taken Sammy. Dean forced himself not to imagine what might be happening to his little brother at that very moment. He couldn't bear the thought of someone hurting Sammy.

Dean listened to John as his father ordered them take-out for dinner from one of the dozen or so menus they had found in the room, and then turned on the television.

"Dad?" Dean asked quietly.

"Yeah?" John replied, not even taking his eyes away from the TV.

"Are you sure Sammy's not here?"

John remained silent for a moment before answering, "I'd know if he was here."

Dean nodded, satisfied that they weren't about to leave his brother in the clutches of some pervert and crossed the room to sit on the bed beside his father, watching to television as well, waiting for their dinner to arrive.

**Author's Note:**

**Special Thanks to mandancie for editing this chapter.**

**Thanks to luvsbruce, BlueMoon007, need2no, reannablue, only-some-loser, StyxxsOmega, JuliHoro, and TweetyRulz for reviewing. **

**Please take a moment to leave a review. **


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

"Come with me," Amy held her hand out to Shawn once he had finished his cereal but the boy didn't take her hand; instead he handed her the empty bowl.

Amy took hold of the boy's hand with her free one and drew him to his feet.

Leading the child from the room so Kurt could start the work on the chain lock, Amy dropped the boy's hand and walked into the kitchen to put the bowl in the sink. Returning, she slipped into her bedroom, leaving the door open an inch, she slid the silk housecoat off and began to dress.

Shawn stood in the hallway, thumb back in his mouth, watching Kurt use an electric drill to attach the lock to the door.

"Hey babe?" Amy called from their bedroom.

"Yeah?" Kurt asked over the whirring sound of the drill.

"Maybe we could get Shawn some clothes when you get home from work," his girlfriend replied, "He can't wear his pajamas all the time."

"Sure," Kurt muttered, "Whatever you want."

Amy stepped out of the bedroom, dressed in jean shorts and a white t-shirt that bared her midriff. She walked over to where Shawn stood and put a hand on his head. The boy looked up at her.

"Wanna watch TV, baby?" she asked and although the child didn't respond, he followed her into the living room and cuddled beside her when she sat on the couch. The boy leaned his body against hers and Amy petted his hair with her hand, flicking through the channels on the television with her free hand.

_SPN_

Dean felt as though his insides had been turned to stone. Wrapping a hand around his middle, he peered out the passenger's side window, hoping to see his little brother walking down the street. They had searched the city before they left- John had even spoken to the motel manager in case he had seen anything the night Sammy vanished- but had found no clue as to where the four-year old might be. Dean's father had insisted they leave and even though the eight-year old didn't want to, he knew his father was right. Sammy might not be in the city anymore and the longer they stayed there, the further away he could be.

John didn't say much to Dean. The boy knew his father was mad at him; he was mad at himself. He was supposed to protect his brother when their Dad was away and he had failed, had slept peacefully while someone snatched Sammy.

"Where are you, Sammy?" Dean whispered, "Where are you?"

_SPN_

Sammy sat at one of the mismatched chairs in the dining room while Amy made him a sandwich. He watched her as she moved around the small kitchen, thumb tucked into his mouth.

He didn't know why he was here. He didn't know if the woman and man were his Daddy's friends. He didn't know why Dean wasn't here with him. He didn't know when his Daddy was going to come back and get him.

He wasn't sure he liked the man. He scared Sammy. The woman was nice though. She made him food and stroked his hair. Sammy guessed that was what his Mommy had done before she died.

"Here's your sandwich, Shawn," Amy put a chipped saucer in front of the boy.

Sammy looked at the sandwich; it was one slice of white bread, folded in half, with processed cheese spread in the middle.

Sammy picked the sandwich up and took a bite. It wasn't too bad. Hesitantly, he smiled at Amy. She smiled back.

"I'm Sammy," Sam corrected her.

The smile fell from Amy's face so fast Sammy stopped eating.

"No, your name is Shawn," she told him.

Sammy frowned. Why was she calling him Shawn? That wasn't his name. Hadn't his Daddy told her and the man what his name was?

"Sammy," he said again.

Amy's hand moved so fast the boy didn't see it, but he felt the sting on his cheek. Sammy dropped the sandwich back onto the saucer and pressed his hand to his face, his eyes watering.

"You're name is Shawn," Amy leaned close to the boy, "Shawn."

Sammy whimpered.

"Say it," Amy demanded, "What's your name?"

Sammy shook his head. The woman raised her hand again, ready for a second slap.

"What's your name?"

"S-Sammy," the boy stammered.

The other side of the child's face blossomed with pain and his eyes leaked tears. He clutched both hands to his cheeks, trying to protect himself.

"No, you're name is Shawn," Amy told him again.

Again Sammy shook his head.

"Fine," Amy said and reached out, grabbing the boy's wrist tightly; "You're going to your room until you get it right."

Amy pulled the boy off the chair and dragged him across the living room, down the hallway and into his bedroom.

Sammy turned around as the woman closed the door and he heard the chain lock slide into place. Still, when her footsteps receded down the hall, Sammy tried to open the door, finding it only opened a crack, the chain taut. He listened as Amy dropped the saucer into the sink with a clatter and then the sound of the volume of the TV being turned up. Sammy closed the door and went to the mattress that served as his bed. Jamming his thumb into his mouth, he mumbled to himself, "I'm Sammy, I'm Sammy, I'm Sammy."

_W_

Amy turned the television off and stood. Kurt should be home any minute. Heading down the hallway, she paused in front of the boy's room, listening. There was no sound from within. Reaching out, she unlocked the door and opened it. The child was lying on the mattress, his back to the door. At the sound of the door opening, he turned to face her, thumb in his mouth.

Amy stepped into the room and crouched down in front of the boy.

"I'm sorry I hit you," she apologized, reaching out to put a hand on the boy's head. He flinched but she ignored it.

"You just made me so mad," Amy said.

Large hazel eyes gazed uncertainly at her face.

"Do you have to go pee?" she asked and the boy nodded, sitting up.

"Kurt and I are going out for a little bit but we'll be back soon," Amy told him as she stood and walked the boy out of the bedroom to the bathroom.

She stood outside the door while he did what he needed to do and then led him back to his bedroom. They both looked up at the sound of keys in the apartment door sounded.

"Can you tell me your name now?" Amy asked.

She saw a calculating look cross the boy's face for a second. He pulled his thumb from his mouth and sighed, "Shawn."

Amy smiled, "That's right, baby."

"You ready to go out?" Kurt's voice called from the entryway.

"Give me a minute!" Amy replied. She smiled at Sammy, closed his bedroom door and engaged the lock.

_W_

Kurt pulled the Trans Am into the parking lot of the thrift store he and Amy frequented. The shop was popular among the denizens of Blackburn Avenue- where Kurt and Amy lived- because even for a thrift store, its prices were very cheap. A bell tinkled as Amy opened the door and she breathed in the familiar scent of the store- dust and neglect- and walked towards the clothing section.

Kurt wandered around after his girlfriend, not paying her much attention when she pulled out an article of clothing, asking, "Do you think this would fit Shawn?" or "This is so cute, don't you think?"

Amy was enjoying picking out clothes for her new baby. She tried to find pants and shirts that would go together, make an outfit for the boy. She spent almost twenty minutes sorting through the clothing, ending up with a half dozen shirts, three pairs of pants and three pairs of shorts.

Kurt, who had been wandering down the aisle, returned with a package of small white socks and a collection of boys' underwear.

"Here, he'll need these too," Kurt dumped the undergarments into Amy's arms, "And some shoes."

Amy's eyes widened; she'd forgotten about shoes! They picked out a pair that would obviously be too big for the boy but Kurt insisted he'd grow into them.

"What about toys?" Amy asked, "He'll need some toys."

Kurt shrugged, "Whatever you want, babe. Just don't go overboard. I don't want to be tripping over kid stuff all over the apartment."

Amy went to the toy section and found some toys she thought the boy would like- a plastic Fisher-Price fire truck, a handful of Hot Wheels cars and a teddy bear that looked like it had been handmade- and brought all the items to the cash register. The owner of the store- an elderly man- eyed Amy's purchases curiously. He knew all his customers, if not by name than at least he recognized their faces. He knew this young woman and her partner had never bought a single item for children since they had lived in the area.

"Looking after a relative's kid?" he asked casually, sliding the items forward to ring them through.

Amy shook her head, smiling, "We just got a little boy."

"Adopted," Kurt added, "It's called 'adopting' babe."

"Well, congrats, I guess," the old man commented before coughing and spitting over his shoulder.

The man slid all the items into several plastic bags and handed them over to Kurt. Amy gave the elderly man the money and put a hand on her boyfriend's arm as they left the store.

_W_

"Christ Amy! Watch what you say!" Kurt snapped as soon as they were settled in the car, the bags resting at Amy's feet.

Amy blushed, "I'm sorry."

"You could get us in trouble for talking like that!" Kurt continued, pulling out of the parking lot quickly.

"I thought you said you didn't do anything illegal?" Amy asked.

Kurt's hands tightened on the steering wheel, "I didn't. But we still gotta be careful. Say we adopted the kid an' all that whenever anyone asks about him."

Amy nodded, "Okay, Kurt."

Her boyfriend glanced at her and smiled, "I love you, babe."

Amy returned his smile, "I love you too."

_W_

Sammy looked up when he heard the front door to the apartment open and the voices of the man and woman as they stepped inside. He pulled his thumb from his mouth, wiping his hands on the legs of his Superman pajamas. His tummy growled and he hoped they would have dinner soon.

Footsteps came down the hall and the door to his bedroom opened to reveal Amy holding several plastic bags.

"Look what I bought you, Shawn!" she announced and stepped into the room.

Sammy sat down on the edge of the mattress and Amy sat with him, pulling out the clothes to show him.

"Do you like them?" she asked.

Sammy, who was used to hand-me-downs from his brother, nodded and, remembering his manners, thanked her.

"You're so sweet!" Amy crowed and put a hand on his face, drawing him towards her and kissed him.

"I got you some toys too," she told Sammy and dumped the Hot Wheels from the bag and onto to the parquet floor. Sammy smiled. He didn't have any of his own, but he liked playing with them when he was in school- his Kindergarten teachers always had Hot Wheels.

Next, Amy showed him the fire truck. It was bright red with rounded edges, designed for very young children, but Sam smiled at it anyway. He didn't want to make the woman angry again.

Finally Amy presented him with the teddy bear. It had been sewn with mustard-coloured corduroy fabric, with a dark grey ribbon around its neck and two large brown buttons for eyes and a single, smaller black one for a nose. Sammy reached out for the bear and hugged it, relishing the comfort the soft toy offered.

"You hungry?" Amy asked and Sammy nodded.

"Okay, let's just put your clothes away and we'll have something to eat," she told him.

Sammy watched as Amy gathered his new clothes and brought them to the open closet door, setting them on one of the built-in shelves, placing his shoes on the floor underneath.

"This place is really starting to look like a real bedroom," Amy smiled. Sammy looked around and didn't think she was right- even the motel rooms he had stayed in with his Daddy and Dean looked more inviting- but he agreed, nodding his head.

Amy reached out her hand and Sammy took it, holding the teddy bear with his other hand, and followed her down the hallway to the kitchen.

**Author's Note:**

**Special thanks to mandancie for editing this chapter.**

**Thanks to need2no, TweetyRulz, whatnosheep, xSUPERxFANGIRLx and StyxxsOmega for reviewing. **

**Please take a moment to leave a review if you're enjoying this story. **


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